“The only way is what?” Shane cried, running toward Niri, who had slumped over on the rock. He grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her. “How do we trigger the snare?”
“It looks like our little chat is over,” Rollan said, noting that he could no longer see Mulop’s shadowy form on the other side of the icy wall.
Niri turned her head toward Shane, blinking. Her eyes had returned to normal, and her face was pale from fright. “Zerif,” she whispered. “He’s found us.”
MEILIN STOOD IN THE DARKENED LIGHTHOUSE, staring at Takoda, whose eyes had returned to their normal brown color. Both he and Kovo looked like they were recovering from a bout of particularly bad nausea.
“Are you okay?” Meilin asked, grabbing the boy by the arm so he didn’t tumble out the open window.
Takoda ran a trembling hand through his dark hair. “Just dizzy,” he said. “I had four separate voices echoing in my head. It was hard to make sense of it all.” His eyes flashed to Kovo, who seemed to have become very interested in the view out the window.
“Well, just take a moment to catch your breath,” Meilin said. “Jhi can help with the nausea.” And so saying, she summoned Jhi, who immediately toddled to Takoda’s side and began nuzzling a place on the boy’s temple.
Kovo remained where he stood, but his bearing was altogether less fierce than it had been half an hour before. It was clear that his little tirade had drained him.
The ape reached out a giant hand and patted Takoda on the shoulder in a way that alarmed Meilin for its gentleness. Perhaps their little conversation had changed the way Takoda and Kovo felt about each other. She glanced at Jhi, following the panda as she worked. Meilin wondered what it would be like to truly inhabit the mind of her spirit animal. A part of her feared what she would learn if she could hear Jhi’s true opinion of her.
“Do you know why the connection was cut short?” she asked after Takoda had more fully recovered. “What happened to Abeke and Rollan?”
Takoda swallowed. “I don’t know.… Mulop couldn’t maintain the connection. Something pulled his attention away. I could feel it, too, for a heartbeat—the thing that interrupted him. I could sense something approaching.”
Kovo nodded, making a sign that she recognized as “danger.”
“Zerif,” Meilin said, stepping back. “He must have found them.” She closed her fists tight, wishing she could fight alongside her friends. She didn’t know what to make of the fact that Shane was with them now, but she hoped the former Conqueror could protect Abeke and Rollan in the coming battle.
Meilin shook these fears from her mind. They had a mission to complete, and she couldn’t let herself get distracted. “We have to destroy the Wyrm before it can hatch and bond with Zerif,” she said. “Let’s get started.”
“I don’t think we can kill the Wyrm before it hatches,” Takoda said. “The only thing that can get through that egg is the Wyrm itself. It would have hatched already, if it weren’t for those roots binding it tight—the tree is trying to save us all.”
“But I thought the Evertree was part of the Wyrm’s evil plan?” She was still struggling to process this new idea that the spirit bond was really the product of the Wyrm. “The tree is a puppet, just like the rest of us.”
“Maybe so,” Takoda said. “But maybe, like us, the Evertree knows what it means for the Wyrm to hatch. Just like we’re fighting against its power, so is the tree.”
Meilin cast a sidelong glance at the boy. She didn’t know how things went in southern Nilo, but in Zhong, people didn’t believe that plants had feelings. “If the Evertree can’t stop it, then how do we?”
Takoda eyed the ceiling. “It’s like the Sadrean elders told us in Phos Astos. Kovo helped the ancient Hellans build this place to stop the Wyrm.”
“I remember,” Meilin said. “They said he constructed some kind of secret weapon.” She turned to the gorilla. “So where is this weapon?”
The ape snorted and then made a gesture.
“We’re standing in it,” Takoda explained. “The city is the trap.”
“Great,” Meilin said. “So all we have to do is set it off. How do we do that?”
“Kovo won’t say. Even though I could see inside Kovo’s mind, hear his thoughts, it was clear that he wanted to keep that knowledge hidden.” The boy touched the handle of an enormous iron mallet propped against the wall. Kovo had found the mallet on their first day in the city and now kept it with him always. “I think it has something to do with this mallet.”
Kovo turned, glaring at them both and snarling. He marched over to Takoda and snatched the mallet from the boy, as though it weighed no more than a twig. He obviously wanted to cut short their speculation about how this trap might actually work.
“This is no time for secrets,” Meilin said, following after the gorilla. “If you know something, you have to tell us.”
“Don’t judge him too harshly,” Takoda said. “He’s guarded this place for centuries. I think he’s afraid of one of us becoming infected by the Wyrm’s parasites and betraying our plan.”
“As if we’re the ones who can’t be trusted,” Meilin said, folding her arms. “Speaking of traps, this feels an awful lot like we’re walking into one.”
She recalled with a flash of rage the way Kovo had manipulated and used humans, animals, and even his fellow Great Beasts. How he had raised up an army of Conquerors to destroy the Greencloaks. “Who’s to say Kovo’s not just plotting to take control of the Wyrm and harness its power for himself? It wouldn’t be the first time he’s tried it.”
The gorilla gave a low, dangerous growl, his black hands tensed around the mallet as though he might be considering its use on her skull.
“Stop!” Takoda said, pushing himself between them. “Kovo is not the enemy.”
“Not the enemy?” Meilin actually laughed aloud. “Tell that to the legions of Greencloaks who died trying to protect Erdas. Tell that to Tarik, and Barlow, and my father.”
“And my family … ” Takoda said. “You’re not the only one who’s lost something.” He looked back at the gorilla, his expression torn between anger and empathy. “I know Kovo’s done wicked things. But he’s fighting a bigger war—one older than the Greencloaks. Kovo is no friend of humanity, but we all share a common enemy in the Wyrm. And he’s sacrificed more than any of us in order to stop it. We have to trust him.”
Meilin could not believe what she was hearing. “An hour ago, you hated Kovo as much as anyone—now suddenly he’s your best friend?”
Takoda frowned. “The Kovo you battled at the Evertree is gone. When I summoned him as a spirit animal, he had no choice but to see the world through human eyes—at least a little bit. You don’t have to trust him, but you should trust me.” Takoda stared at her, his eyes wide and pleading. “What do you say?”
Meilin eyed the iron mallet clasped in the gorilla’s huge hand. “So it has something to do with that mallet. What are we supposed to do with it? Whack the Wyrm on the head?” Her gaze moved past Kovo toward the window, which looked out into the center of the city.
Which looked out to the bell tower.
It really was an enormous structure. Its base was covered with pillars and round platforms. In the dim light, they almost looked like stone cogs and pistons—parts of some ancient machine.
“The bell tower,” she said. “That’s the trigger for the weapon, isn’t it?”
Kovo blinked, his face screwed up. He looked annoyed, but not at her. After a moment, he made a few hand gestures, which Takoda was able to translate.
“It is not a weapon like you’re thinking. It’s more like a trap … and even that word isn’t quite right. He keeps talking about the tides.… ”
“So we’re meant to drown the Wyrm?” Meilin said, struggling to follow. “I’d think a creature able to destroy all of Erdas could swim.”
Kovo shook his great head and gestured again, growing more frustrated.
“That’s not right, either,” Tak
oda said. “It’s … it’s Erdas. Erdas will stop the Wyrm.” Takoda shook his head, struggling to keep apace with Kovo’s gestures. “It’s too complicated to explain. But I think I know how these ruins are meant to work.” He pointed out the window. “There are two towers—one here, and the other where your friends are—and they’re connected by a tunnel that runs right through the heart of Erdas. When the bell is rung, the towers will be activated and the trap will be set into motion.”
Meilin nodded vaguely. “So we need to ring the bell to spring the trap?” She looked out the window toward the middle of the city, at the bell tower that rose above the rest of the buildings. “That explains why Kovo was so eager to protect the tower from the Many. He must have been afraid that the Many climbing all over it would damage the bell.”
Kovo nodded and made more gestures to his human partner.
Takoda watched, his eyes following the quickly moving hands. It seemed to Meilin that since communing with Kovo through Mulop, the boy was better at understanding his spirit animal’s gestures. “Until the Wyrm hatches,” Takoda said, “it’s our job to protect that tower from the Many. If the Wyrm learns of our plan ahead of time, it might try to destroy the tower before it can be activated.”
Meilin leaned against a giant urn of spiced truffle oil and blew a strand of hair from her face. “Let’s just hope we don’t die of hunger before the moment arrives. Or boredom.” Waiting might have been something a monk like Takoda could do, but Meilin was a warrior, a person of action. She felt Jhi place an understanding paw on her foot. The panda, it seemed, knew Meilin’s discomfort.
She heard a sharp bark as Briggan appeared at the top of the stairs. The wolf had remained with Conor below for the conversation, but was now pawing at the floor, whining.
“Something’s wrong,” Takoda said, already moving. “I think he wants us to go downstairs.”
Meilin grabbed her staff and followed after them. Briggan was growling, and his fur had bristled along his back—he looked frightened. As soon as Meilin reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw why.
In the corner of the room was a pile of worn rope.
And no Conor.
“Conor,” she said, her heart pounding in her ear. “He’s gone.”
Takoda, Kovo, and Jhi were soon at her side. They looked in every corner of the room and double-checked the door, which was still barred from the inside.
“He must have climbed out through the window,” she said, peering out into the streets below. “If he survived the fall.”
“Have you noticed something else?” Takoda said, standing beside her. “The streets—they’ve all gone dark.”
Takoda was right. The barrier of glowstones that they had placed around the perimeter had all been extinguished.
“And if the lights are out,” Meilin said, “then the Many could be anywhere.”
Meilin inched back from the window as she heard a gargling hiss from just outside. The pale hand of what might have once been a woman appeared on the open sill, her fingernails cracked and black. The creature reached up another hand and pulled herself over the windowsill, peering into the darkness. She snarled at Meilin and Takoda.
Meilin already had her quarterstaff in her hand, and she swung it at the woman with such force that her head snapped back with a violent jerk. The creature snarled and gave a choked howl as her body fell from the window and plummeted to the ground below.
Meilin and Takoda raced back to the window, peering down to the streets. In the glowing light of the Evertree, they could just make out the broken body of the creature, dragging herself along the pavement.
“We need light,” Meilin said, and ran to the bag that they’d managed to salvage from the Meleager. Inside was a small ball resembling a soft nut—one of only three they had left. Meilin hurled the nut out the open window onto the street below. The ball struck the ground and splattered phosphorescent milky goo in every direction. Eerie pinkish light filled the street, and in that light they could see dozens of the Many teeming in the streets, climbing on top of one another, all moving toward the bell tower.
The Many snarled, recoiling from the flash of light, which was already beginning to fade. Meilin stared at their hideous faces, skin drawn tight on their sharp bones. On each forehead she could see the rotting purple spiral of the parasite that had infected them. The Many were all bald, and their clothes, if they had any, were rotted rags.
All but one of them, who moved at the front of the line. His yellow hair looked dark in the shadows, and over his shoulders hung a tattered green cloak. Unlike the others, who howled and hid from the glowstone, he marched right to the light and, removing his cloak, laid the fabric over the splattered goo, dimming it so the others could continue their charge toward the Wyrm. The boy remained where he was, staring up at the lighthouse—staring straight at Meilin.
Briggan gave a sharp whine, pushing his muzzle into Meilin’s sleeve. She stared at the boy below, whose figure was now only the ghost of a shadow. But even that glimpse had been long enough to confirm her fear.
“Conor,” she said, stepping back, her heart throbbing in her chest. “He’s raised an army against us.”
CONOR DIDN’T REMEMBER HOW HE HAD MANAGED TO escape his bonds in the lighthouse. Judging from the throbbing pain running up his arm, he thought he must have dislocated a thumb in the process.
The pain, however, didn’t matter. Nor did the hunger gnawing in his stomach. Or the cold chill of the air without his cloak.
All that mattered was the Wyrm.
Conor had to reach the city square. He knew something, something about the bell tower in the middle of the city. Something about it was a threat to the Wyrm. He didn’t understand how he knew this. He only knew that anything that tried to stop him would fall at his hand.
This would be a difficult journey—something or someone might try to stop him. For that reason, he had taken pains to extinguish the glowstone lamps set throughout the city. The light bothered his eyes, but not nearly as much as the others, who were burned by the light as though by fire. He knew that if he could darken those lights, he would soon have a legion at his side.
And so it was. No sooner had the first glowstone been shattered than he could sense his brethren skittering out from the shadows to join him. He could hear their heartbeats, beating with his own—steady and strong. He could see that they suffered just as he did—they were tormented with their desire to follow the Wyrm’s command. And he could help lead them.
They were all children of the Wyrm.
Truly, it was a feeling of peace. The calm that comes from one finally accepting his place in the world. His whole life, Conor had been torn between duty and desire—always playing the meek shepherd, even when he wanted so much more. And now, at last, the Wyrm had called to him, had chosen him. And with that call came a promise of something so powerful, so pure, that he knew he would die if he could not touch it.
But even as he staggered over the cracked stone streets, moving toward the middle of the city, he felt another pull. He had a vague unease echoing in the deepest parts of his mind. A mournful baying—like the howling of a wolf—that seemed to tell him that what he was doing was wrong. That the Wyrm was dangerous. That he had to stop it before it was too late.
But that sound was faint in comparison to his own throbbing heart, which beat like a drum, compelling him to march forward. Conor’s dark eyes slid to the hundreds of others walking beside him. How could so many souls be wrong? And when he finally reached the Wyrm, he knew that voice would be silenced at last.
“Conor!” a voice cried out in the darkness before him. It was not a voice in his head, but a real voice. It was the voice of a girl.
There was a flash of wincing light, which sent the others into hiding. Conor remained where he was. The light revealed their path—the path that led directly to the bell tower in the middle of the city—and it was blocked by two children and three beasts. The girl who had called to him was standing in the middle of th
e group. She wore a green cloak and held a long staff. Conor thought her name might be Meilin, and then he wondered how he knew that.
“Conor,” the girl said, her body crouched like one preparing to fight. “You have to stop. You don’t know what you’re doing. You’re being controlled by the Wyrm. You need to resist its power.”
Conor felt his entire body flood with nauseous hatred as he recalled who these people were. These were interlopers. His former friends, who had held him captive in the tower, tied at the wrists and ankles. They had tried to keep him from the Wyrm. And now they were blocking his path.
These are my enemiessss, a voice said in his mind. It was a deep, pulsing voice that seemed to reverberate through his very bones. A voice that spoke without actual words in a language even older than the stars. A voice of limitless power.
Protecttt meee, the voice said.
Protecttt meee, and killll them.
MEILIN HAD NO REAL WAY OF KNOWING HOW TO STOP what was coming. They were two children and three spirit animals against an army of hundreds—maybe even thousands. The last time they had encountered the Many in Phos Astos, they had barely escaped with their lives. And now they were somehow supposed to defeat them in battle, with one of her closest friends leading the opposite charge.
She stared at Conor shuffling toward her, his lifeless eyes glossy and dark. The boy she knew was barely recognizable.
“Conor!” she called again. “You have to fight the Wyrm! Resist its call!”
If Conor heard her plea, it did not show on his face. That was perhaps a blessing. Conor had fought countless battles at Meilin’s side. He knew her weaknesses as a fighter, and he could certainly exploit them. Already he had shown himself cunning enough to extinguish the lights around the main square—enabling the Many to come to his side.
She wondered whether he had overheard any of their conversation at the lighthouse. How much did he know about Kovo’s plan? And if Conor knew, did the Wyrm know as well?